


Control; perfection

by LesSentiments



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 16:39:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19467928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LesSentiments/pseuds/LesSentiments
Summary: For Betty, control was key. Losing control, it wasn't really part of her life, as you see, she had a coping mechanism. She told herself this was what was keeping control, keeping order, keeping sanity. If that wasn't true, she ignored it, because Coopers were not crazy, they were not out of control, they were not ravaged by life.Betty Cooper was composed, she was intact, she was perfect, she was perfect, she was perfect.





	Control; perfection

**Author's Note:**

> I've been re-reading 'The Bell Jar', so you know what that means; absolute detatchment depression writing and mindspace. I swear, it's one of my favourites, but it's an absolute mindfuck of a book. Hopefully writing this means I can get rid of some of the 'feeling like I'm not actually in my life' sensation it gives me :)  
> If I make it short it won't spiral as much?

For Betty, control was in her tight, unrelenting ponytail plastered to her head everyday, it was in her neatly organised planner and immaculate wardrobe. Losing control, it wasn't really part of her life, as you see, she had a coping mechanism; the red crescents permanently etched into the silvering skin of her palms. She told herself this was what was keeping control, keeping order, keeping sanity. If that wasn't true, she ignored it, because Coopers were not crazy, they were not out of control, they were not ravaged by life. Betty Cooper was composed, she was intact, she was perfect, she was perfect, she was perfect. 

The first time she'd discovered this was in the second grade, the memory was perfectly preserved in her mind; how Archie and Jughead, her two best friends had started squabbling about something silly, something so trivial as who could sit next to her on the school bus on their first real field trip. She'd almost lost control, almost screamed, almost cried, but instead her body began to shut down. Their words blurred and became murmurings in the back of her mind and her eyes slid shut as she felt the sharp sting, the stickiness of the blood on her fingers. Then she'd smiled; she'd taken back control. Afterward, nobody had payed attention to her, only to the two boys and their punishment, so that's when she knew it was right, she blended perfectly, seamlessly, into her cookie-cut life. She was a Cooper; composed, intact. Perfect. 

In the last week of the summer leading up to the tenth grade, Betty met Veronica Lodge. This was a girl who was glamour, beauty, confidence, mixed up all in one. For Betty, the word perfect was destruction, it was an absolution she could never quite seem to achieve, so she idolised and hated its control over her every action. But Veronica Lodge was an unrelenting force of perfection when she strolled into Pop's that night with an air that commanded the room and instantly stole away her perfect picket fence life with Archie Andrews. She was impeccable in her effortless class, with her breathy words always lilted with a laugh, knowing she stole the room with her "Are you familiar with the works of Truman Capote?", knowing Archie knew nothing, knowing they'd hang onto her every word, every movement anyway. So Betty smiled and greeted her, while her hands curled into tight fists under the table; the familiar breaking through of barely healed wounds calming her, reassuring her control, making sure no other feelings could break through.

It wasn't long after this that Betty had fallen further into actually feeling something than she had in a long time. She'd been somewhat infatuated with Archie, and that had been broken, shattered like glass in mere moments. Now, though, she was drowning. She was completely smothered in devotion to Veronica Lodge, and she couldn't seem to claw her way out. She felt like an outsider looking in on a situation that seemed completely untrue; how could a girl with that class, that elegance, that ease, _that_ body have gravitated toward her? How could it be that, when they're together, Veronica is as completely absorbed in Betty's company as she is in hers? Their tumultuous relationship has thrown them closer in such a small amount of time than Betty remembers having felt for.. forever.

When Betty stumbles into the bathroom, following Veronica, seeing her bent over the sink, her face screwed in anguish letting out an ungodly sob, with her precious, precious pearls strewn across the floor, something falls into place with Betty. She sees Veronica well and truly broken. Finally, finally, she sees the similarity, the reason they've been pulled together so violently, and why they've somehow stayed clung together throughout. It's because, really, they're not that different at all, actually, they're both just as broken as one another; both scrambling for control, holding on for dear life. So, when Betty pulls her into a tight hug, both crouched on the ground uncomfortably, she puts her hands into fists and just feels; feels the smooth ridges that had once been cuts, but haven't been opened for a long while. And she smiles as she pulls back and peppers kisses across the smaller girl's face, finally landing on her mouth, each holding so much meaning, so much comfort. They fall into one another because they know this is what they need, they need this to keep their heads from slipping back under the water of perfection. Because maybe, just maybe, they can help each other, fix one another, so the cracks, the scars, aren't so obvious. So she keeps smiling.


End file.
